Victims
by Guardian6
Summary: An armed robbery goes wrong and causes friction between friends. STORY COMPLETE!!!
1. Default Chapter

Title: Victims.

Disclaimer: Only my originals belong to me! 

Rating: General.

Summary: A robbery causes friction between friends. 

Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed 'Chloe's Legacy'. Those kind words genuinely inspired me to write some more. I don't really like having more than one WIP on the go at the same time, but _Star Struck_ (rated NC-17) is proving to be slow going and this just wouldn't leave me alone!

Feedback: Always appreciated.

Email: helenlouiseg@aol.com

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VICTIMS.

by

Guardian.

Jesse Travis glanced at his watch and groaned inwardly. It was almost one a.m. and he'd only just got around to closing Barbeque Bob's, the restaurant he co-owned with his friend Steve Sloan. He was back on shift at the hospital at eight, but he'd insisted on staying to close up because he knew that Steve had been working even harder than him of late.

He locked the restaurant's front door and trudged wearily to his car, his mind on his bed. He didn't realise that he was not alone until it was too late. Somebody grabbed his arm and he was thrust roughly back against a wall.

Before he knew what was happening, Jesse found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Then everything happened with frightening speed. Jesse saw that the gun was wavering wildly, as though the hands that held it were shaking. He glanced up and had time to notice wide and frightened almond-shaped eyes, set in an unmistakably Oriental face.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Jesse felt white-hot pain in his chest. Jesse fell back and the last thing he saw was his own shock, mirrored in the face of the gunman.

*****

Jesse was lucky that somebody heard the shot and dialled 911, so the paramedics were able to get to him before he bled to death. He was equally lucky that Mark Sloan was there when he was rushed through the doors of Community General Hospital. Mark had just finished his shift and was headed home, but he saw his young friend through triage, was with him when he briefly regained consciousness and stayed with him until he went into surgery. Then all he could do was wait.

Steve arrived less than half an hour later, concern for his friend clearly showing on his handsome features.

"What happened, dad?" he asked, without preamble. "How is he?"

"He was shot once, high in the chest." Seeing the stricken look on his son's face, Mark hurried to reassure him: "He's going to be okay. He's in surgery now, having the bullet removed. It was deflected off his collar bone into his chest cavity, but luckily missed anything major. A couple of inches lower..."

Steve closed his eyes briefly, not needing his father to spell out just how close they'd come to losing Jesse. He was aware that Mark was still talking and forced his attention back to him.

"It looks like a robbery. There were no witnesses, but his wallet is missing."

"I'll call the station," Steve said, knowing that he couldn't just stand around waiting. "See if they've found anything."

Mark was left to wait alone. He hadn't disturbed Amanda with the news, not once he'd learnt that Jesse's injury wasn't life-threatening. She didn't see enough of her children as it was. Now that she had a couple of days off, he was determined to let her enjoy them.

She'd be mad about not being told, of that there was no doubt, but Mark genuinely believed that he was acting in her best interests. Even if she were to come to the hospital, she'd only be stuck waiting with him.

Steve returned a short time later, but with no news on Jesse's assailant. Until the young doctor woke up and could give them a description, they had little hope of finding him. 

Father and son waited in silence, Steve occasionally shifting restlessly on his chair. Mark could see that something was bothering him, but never pressed him as to revealing what that something was. Steve, he knew, would tell him when he was good and ready. 

The revelation wasn't long in coming. As the minutes dragged by, Steve jumped to his feet and began pacing, casting constant worried glances towards the doors of the OR.

"What the Hell's taking them so long?" he snapped, as his frustration mounted.

"While Doctor Reynolds is an excellent surgeon, he's hardly a miracle worker," Mark replied, with amusement in his tone.

"You said it wasn't serious."

"What I said was that it wasn't life-threatening, but it was a nasty wound. Not only have they got to remove the bullet, but also some bone fragments. Plus there'll be some nerve and tissue damage that needs repairing. It takes time."

Steve flopped back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

"I should have been there," he said quietly, his eyes closed.

The comment wasn't completely unexpected to Mark. He knew his son well and also knew that he took his responsibilities very seriously indeed and that included his responsibilities as a friend. From the moment that Jesse was hurt, it was inevitable that Steve would feel he had let him down. 

"Maybe you should," Mark answered. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had been there, but we'll never know. Jesse did you a favour, as a friend, by volunteering to lock-up at Bob's, but there's no way he's going to see the shooting as being your fault. You shouldn't either."

"But dad..."

"But nothing. Jesse is going to need his friends around him while he recovers. He's going to need their love and support. Not some misplaced guilt trip."

Mark didn't mean for the words to come out sounding quite so harsh, but they had the desired effect. He didn't need Steve to be so consumed by guilt that he wouldn't be able to face his young friend. That would do them both more harm than good.

"I suppose you're right," Steve conceded slowly. "But I just wish..."

"Wishes won't change the past. All you can do is help Jesse in any way you can. And that includes finding whoever who did this to him."

*****

By the time Jesse's surgery was over and Mark and Steve had taken a quick look in on him in recovery, it was morning. Neither man had managed to get any sleep and were just about to go home, to try and catch a couple of hours before their respective shifts started, when Amanda came rushing down the corridor.

"I'll, um, just go and fetch the car." Steve mumbled, beating a hasty retreat when he saw the expression on her face.

"Why didn't you call me?" She demanded furiously. "I've just heard about Jesse. Is he going to be alright? I can't believe you didn't call me."

"I'm sorry Amanda." Mark's tired voice cut through her tirade. "It was really late when he was brought in and we didn't want to disturb you or the boys. Once we knew that Jesse was going to be alright, there really wasn't anything you could have done."

"I could have been here for him." 

"I'm sorry," Mark said again.

Seeing the exhaustion on the older man's face, Amanda forced herself to calm down.

"Have you been here all night?" she asked him gently.

"I was just about to go home when it happened. I couldn't leave him. Even when I knew it wasn't as serious as it looked, I couldn't leave him."

He remembered his own horror at seeing Jesse's blood-soaked form and was still thankful, in spite of her wrath, that he had saved Amanda from such anguish. He suddenly realised that the pathologist was looking at him expectantly. She had said something, but he had no clue as to what it was. He sheepishly asked her to repeat herself.

"I said, why don't you go home? You're obviously exhausted. I'll wait with Jesse. He won't be alone when he wakes up."

Mark was too tired to argue. He felt a brief stab of guilt as he thought that, if it were Steve who was lying injured instead of Jesse, wild horses wouldn't have dragged him from the hospital. Then he remembered his own words, warning his son away from any guilt trip.

He'd seen for himself that Jesse was alright and already on the road to recovery. There was no reason for him to stay. He took Amanda's advice and headed home.

*****

The anaesthetic held Jesse in a deep and painless slumber until well into the afternoon. So Mark had returned to the hospital and was at his bedside when his eyelids first started to flutter and he fought his way back to consciousness.

Amanda was there too, as she had been all day, taking the time to catch up on some paperwork while she kept an eye on her friend. When he first began to stir, she laid her files to one side and took hold of his hand.

Mark went around to his other side and, smiling down at him, rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, anticipating his disorientation when he first awoke. As Mark had known he would, the moment Jesse's eyes opened, he began to try and sit up. Mark's gentle touch stopped him.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice still hoarse from the effects of the anaesthetic.

Amanda eased some ice chips into his mouth and he smiled at her with genuine gratitude.

"How do you feel?" she asked, as Mark began to do his standard post-op examination.

Jesse lay still and let his colleague get on with his job. He took a deep breath, then winced as something pulled in his chest.

"Sore," he admitted. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Mark countered.

"I was at Bob's," Jesse answered slowly, frowning as he sought the memory. "I remember locking the door. Then... there was somebody else. A gun... My God, he shot me!"

Mark nodded and was just about to explain when the door opened. Steve poked his head in, saw that Jesse was conscious, then came into the room.

"Jesse," he greeted, a broad smile portraying his relief at seeing his friend awake and alert.

"Getting shot sucks."

"Tell me about it."

"Steve." Mark's stern voice cut through their banter. "Jesse has only just come round. Any questions you have will have to wait until he's stronger."

"Mark, really, I'm fine." To prove his point, Jesse tried to sit up, but the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off and pain stabbed through his chest. He fell back, gasping.

"You are most certainly not fine," Mark admonished. "You have just come through surgery. What you need is rest and lots of it."

"But..."

"Don't make me fetch a sedative."

Those final words silenced Jesse, but Amanda had no such restrictions and allowed her own curiosity to come to the fore.

"So, have you caught him yet?"

Steve shot her a mock glare as he perched on the edge of Jesse's bed.

"There were no witnesses to the actual shooting," he told them. "We don't even know for sure if it's a he we're looking for."

"It was a guy," Jesse offered. "Oriental, maybe Chinese..."

He trailed off as he noticed Mark's warning look and muttered an apology. But Mark was as eager as anyone else to find the man who had shot his friend.

"You can carry on," he relented, "as long as you feel up to it. But if you get too tired, or start to get at all agitated..."

He didn't have to complete the threat. Jesse knew that it would involve sedatives.

"Okay." In his mind's eye, Jesse could clearly see the face of the gunman. "He wasn't very old. At least, I don't think so. He was Oriental. They always seem to look young to me."

"Did you notice what he was wearing?" Steve asked.

Jesse shook his head and closed his eyes, to see if that would aid his memory. But all he could see was those almond eyes, widened in shock. 

"It was weird," he said eventually, knowing that it sounded lame, but not knowing how else to describe it.

"How do you mean?" Steve leaned forward eagerly.

"He didn't say anything." Jesse's frown returned. "He didn't demand money, didn't give me a chance. He threw me against the wall, then... I didn't try to fight him... He just... He..."

"Alright, that's enough." Mark stepped in swiftly as he noticed Jesse's increasing agitation. The young man was breathing heavily as his body reacted to his remembered terror. "Jesse, you need to calm down. I want you to take slow, even breaths."

Jesse swallowed heavily and nodded, feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. He closed his eyes, willing to let Mark and Amanda fuss over him. Within moments, sleep had claimed him.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!!


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Same as in Part One!

Author's notes: Thanks for the positive reviews, feedback is always appreciated and is a genuine inspiration. Welcome to part two and I hope you enjoy it just as much.

VICTIMS

(_PART TWO_)

Over the next two days, Steve found himself growing increasingly frustrated, as he began the search for whoever had shot Jesse. He knew that he had little chance of finding the man in a city the size of LA, not unless the gunman slipped up, but he felt the need to keep on trying, even though he had precious little to go on.

It wasn't even his case, he was assigned to homicide after all, but he constantly harangued his colleagues in the robbery division, spoke to all of his own informants and chased up any half-leads that came his way.

His Captain wasn't a stupid man and he noticed almost immediately what was happening, but to begin with, he was content to let Steve get on with it. He was a seasoned police officer and he understood friendship and loyalty. So long as Steve's extra-curricular activities didn't affect his work, the Captain was happy to let him carry on the search for the mystery gunman.

Steve was aware of this and appreciated it greatly, but that still didn't help to ease his mounting frustration as every lead he got turned into a dead end.

*****

At the end of his second day of fruitless searching, Steve called by the hospital. He felt irrationally guilty about his lack of results, knowing that Jesse would in no way blame him for not having caught his assailant. Still, he couldn't help but feeling that he had somehow let his friend down.

Jesse took one look at the detective's face and knew that he had no further news on the investigation. In his own way, Jesse too was feeling guilty. He'd really tried to remember everything he could about his attacker, going through reams of mug-shots and even sitting with a police artist. But he could see nothing beyond those wide and frightened eyes.

"Hey," Jesse greeted him easily, already having decided not to ask about the investigation. "I don't suppose you thought to smuggle in some ribs?"

Steve perched on the edge of the bed and lifted the lid of Jesse's supper tray. In spite of the young doctor's complaints, he'd actually eaten most of his evening meal. Steve picked up a chunk of potato and popped it into his mouth, ignoring Jesse's grimace of distaste.

"What do you need ribs for?" he asked as he chewed. "This is great."

Jesse suppressed a shudder. Hospital food was bad enough when it was warm. Only Steve Sloan could enjoy it stone cold.

"I could waste away in here," Jesse complained. "I've not exactly got a lot of weight to lose."

"No news on when you're getting out then?"

"Not for a few more days at least. I don't see why though. I could recover just as easily at home."

"Jesse, I think the idea is for you to rest. At least in here, dad can make sure that you do just that."

"But it's _boring._"

Steve couldn't help but laugh at Jesse's petulant tone. At that moment he sounded more like CJ than a fully qualified doctor. Throughout the visit, Jesse continued his good-natured grumbling, playing on Steve's sympathy, while the detective finished off his leftover meal.

A couple of hours later, Mark came into the room. He'd removed his white coat, ready to go home for the night, but he still insisted on giving Jesse a quick check-up before he left.

"Mark, there's really no need," Jesse tried to protest. "I've hardly had a twinge all day. In fact, I feel well enough to go home."

"Oh no, we're not going to have that argument again." Mark made a note on Jesse's chart. "You're staying here until I say you're fit to leave and that most certainly isn't just two days after being shot."

"But Mark..."

"Jesse, you are a doctor. You know all of the reasons why you can't go home, so I'm not going to stand here and discuss them with you. Get some rest, concentrate on getting well and you'll be discharged in no time."

Jesse rolled his eyes and sighed as Mark completed his lecture, but was wise enough not to argue any further. Steve grinned at him from behind his dad's back.

"Goodnight, Jess." Steve even managed to inject a smirk into his voice. "I'll call by again tomorrow. Just think, by then you'll be another day closer to going home."

Jesse waited until they had both gone before indulging himself in a huge yawn. He was still exhausted, but pride had prevented him from admitting that to his friends. In reality he knew that Mark was right and his own protestations were merely the result of boredom and a certain amount of self-pity. Mark was only doing what he himself would have done if it had been a patient of his lying there, suffering from a similar wound.

Jesse drifted off to sleep, thinking how grateful he was to have friends who cared so much about him. Besides, they were right. His recovery was progressing nicely. He would be home in no time. 

***** 

The problems started for Jesse later that night. The next time he returned to consciousness, it was to find himself in almost complete darkness. Night had fallen and, for a moment, he couldn't even begin to discern where he was. The residue of forgotten dreams combined with the after effects of the anaesthetic left him totally confused and more than a little afraid.

It hurt to breath and as agony, the same agony that had so rudely awakened him, tore through his chest, Jesse began to panic. All he was aware of was the pain. It was no longer so focussed on his chest, but seemed to radiate throughout his entire body. At that moment, he genuinely believed that he was dying.

Instinct and familiarity with the hospital equipment, more than luck alone, caused his flailing hand to strike the 'call' button at his bedside. Within moments the duty nurse was with him.

Jesse began to calm the instant that she touched his arm, content in the knowledge that he was no longer alone. Gradually awareness returned and he realised that he was in the hospital, recovering after being shot. Even as confused as he was, he realised that the pain was much more than he should be suffering.

"It hurts," he breathed, clawing at the nurse's arm. In the darkness he couldn't recognise her or read her name tag. 

"I know, I know," the nurse soothed, not at all perturbed by the fact that it was her colleague who writhed beneath her touch. "I'll increase your medication, then I'll fetch the doctor."

Jesse nodded slowly and forced himself to relax back onto the bed. The increased dosage gradually began to take effect and the agony faded somewhat. 

The nurse was only gone for a few moments before returning with a doctor in tow. As she turned the lighting level up, Jesse took a good look at the man who had come to treat him. He was in his forties, his black hair just beginning to go grey. He was also a complete stranger to Jesse.

"I don't recognise you," he murmured.

"Oh, of course not, we weren't introduced." The older doctor seemed somewhat embarrassed by this lack of etiquette. "I'm Philip Morton. I'm only here temporarily while... um..."

The man's embarrassment deepened and Jesse realised that he was looking at his own replacement. Jesse chuckled, in an attempt to put the man at ease.

"Then I guess you already know who I am."

"Yes, Doctor Travis. I... um... I only wish the circumstances were better."

"It's okay. And call me Jesse, please."

"Alright the, Jesse it is." Doctor Morton continued his examination. "The nurse tells me you were in some pain. Any difficulty breathing?"

"A little," Jesse confessed. "An infection, right?"

"Only a minor one from the looks of it. Luckily we've caught it nice and early and it's nothing that a dose of antibiotics won't clear up. You're not allergic at all?"

Jesse shook his head and cursed inwardly. So much for going home soon. Mark wouldn't let him out of his sight now. He returned his attention to Doctor Morton.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you to take the whole course, even if you do start to feel better."

Again, Jesse merely nodded in response. He was already drifting back off to sleep. 

"And I'll call by again in the morning." But by then, Doctor Morton was speaking to himself.

*****

Philip Morton kept his promise and looked in on Jesse at the end of his shift, but the young doctor was still sound asleep and the duty nurse reported no further problems.

It was much later that morning when Jesse finally awoke and, by then, Mark was back at his side.

"So, I hear you had some excitement during the night."

Jesse, still not fully awake, responded only with a blank stare. Then, slowly, those frightening events came back to him.

"I was kinda hoping I'd dreamed it," he muttered eventually.

"No such luck, my friend. Definitely an infection and that means you'll be enjoying the hospitality of Community General for a little while longer yet." Mark glanced up from the notes he'd been studying on Jesse's chart, a slight frown on his face. "I don't suppose Doctor Morton mentioned exactly what he prescribed you. I can't seem to make it out."

He showed the chart to his friend, but Jesse couldn't decipher the squiggle that had been added to his list of medication.

"No, I think he just said something about antibiotics. Sorry Mark, it's all a bit of a blur."

"Oh, it's not a problem. I'll just ask him the next time I see him. How do you feel now?"

"It's not too bad," Jesse's reply was little more than a whisper. "I was scared."

Mark stopped what he was doing and stared at Jesse, astonished by the admission. Jesse Travis was fiercely independent and never one to show weakness. Mark found that quiet confession profoundly disturbing.

"You had every right to be scared," he answered slowly, careful to mask his concern. "It must have been very painful."

Jesse merely shrugged and Mark's frown deepened. The young doctor seemed unusually listless, not his normal self at all. But, before he could investigate further, his pager sounded.

"It's Steve," he explained after he'd checked it. "I'll just be a minute. You never know, he might have some news for us."

Once again, Jesse's response showed a remarkable lack of enthusiasm. Still frowning, Mark set off to phone his son.

"Great news, dad." Steve's excitement, a marked contrast to Jesse's lethargy, even carried down the telephone. "They've got him, dad. They've caught the man who shot Jesse!"

CONTINUED IN PART THREE!!! 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: See Part One

Author's notes: Once again, thanks for those reviews. In this chapter there is a reference to Chloe and Kenny Parker and Gianni De Marco. The story behind those events can be found in _Chloe's Legacy_. You don't need to have read that to understand this, but it would help.

VICTIMS

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(PART THREE)

"Dad, I need you to come to the station."

"Why? What's wrong?" Mark frowned at the undercurrent of tension in his son's voice.

"It will be easier to explain when you get here," Steve answered. "But things could get complicated."

"Alright, son. I'll be there just as soon as I can. I'll just need to speak to Jesse first."

"How's he doing?"

"He picked up an infection during the night, but it's nothing to worry about. This news might be just what he needs to cheer him up."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Steve hung up before Mark could ask him what he meant by that cryptic comment. Mark, however, didn't allow himself to dwell on it. With a shrug, he headed back to Jesse's room.

When he got there, he found his friend sitting up in bed, but still seeming uncharacteristically quiet. The young doctor barely even acknowledged Mark's entrance. He also, Mark noticed, hadn't touched his breakfast.

"You really ought to try and eat something," Mark admonished. "You need to keep your strength up."

Those words earned him another half-hearted shrug. Mark perched on the edge of the bed.

"I've just spoken to Steve. It's good news. They've arrested the man who shot you. I'm going to the station now."

That at least provoked a flicker of interest in Jesse's eyes, but he still didn't say anything.

"Jesse, are you sure you're alright?" Mark was, by now, genuinely worried. "If you're feeling at all unwell, I'll stay here. Steve can fill us both in on the details later."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

With those muttered words, Jesse lay back down and turned onto his side, with his back to Mark. He closed his eyes. Mark just looked at him for a long moment, but didn't know what else he could say. Putting his friend's strange mood down to his interrupted sleep, Mark headed off to the station. 

*****

"So what's the problem?" Mark asked Steve, a short time later. The two men were in Steve's car, heading towards a poorer suburb of LA.

"The guy who shot Jesse is Kim Ho. He was arrested trying to use one of Jesse's credit cards." Mark just looked at Steve with raised eyebrows. "Pretty stupid I know. Anyway, Ho got completely hysterical. He claimed that his baby daughter was dying and he had to buy medicine."

"So that's where we're going now? To see the little girl?"

"It is, but that's not even half the story." Steve sighed. "It gets worse. Dad, Kim Ho is thirteen years old."

"Oh my God."

"We don't know much about the mother, only that her name is Maria. The baby is Bethany and she's about three months old."

"And you don't know what's wrong with her?" Mark had turned to look out of the window, watching as the buildings became more and more run down.

"No, he just kept saying that she was real sick, that she was dying." Steve pulled up outside what looked to be an abandoned house, but before he got out of the car, he turned back to his dad. "There's one more thing about Ho, he's got no previous. He's never been in trouble in his life before. Up until last year, he was attending school, doing well too. Then he just quit."

"Around the time Maria got pregnant. What about their parents? His and Maria's?"

"I don't know. It took us long enough just to get this address off him. It wasn't until I mentioned that you were a doctor."

"Are you sure he's sent us to the right place?" Mark asked, getting out of the car and peering at the ramshackle building. He couldn't imagine anyone living in such a place, much less trying to raise a child.

"One way to find out."

*****

"Hello! Anyone home?" Mark called out as he pushed open the battered front door. The hallway was a mess, piled with dirt and rubble, but Mark could see a light shining from under a door at the far end. "Hello, Maria?"

The door opened a fraction and a frightened young face peered through the crack.

"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep her tone firm, even though she was clearly terrified. Mark judged her to be barely a teenager herself. "We've got nothing worth stealing."

"It's alright." Mark spoke soothingly, advancing slowly. "I'm a doctor. Kim said that your baby's sick."

"Kim?" At the mention of her boyfriend's name, Maria opened the door wider and looked out beyond the two men. "Is he with you? He never came home."

"I'm sorry, miss..." Steve stepped forward, reaching for his badge.

"Gilbert. Maria Gilbert."

"Miss Gilbert. I'm Steve Sloan and I'm a detective with the LAPD. I'm sorry, but Kim has been arrested."

Maria's hand shot to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears but, before she could respond, there was a piercing cry from within the room behind her. Steve winced at the sound. The baby wasn't crying, she was screaming. 

"Let me look at her, please," Mark offered.

Maria merely nodded her head and stepped back to allow the two men access. The room was a startling contrast to the squalor of the rest of the building. While it was by no means spotless, Maria had obviously worked very hard to make it as homely as she could. But still, it was easy to see how a child would get sick in such surroundings.

There was a cot in one corner. It was shabby and obviously second-hand, but someone had tried to brighten it up with white paint and cartoon transfers. It was from there that the screaming came. Mark ignored the rest of the room's meagre furnishing and headed straight over to the cot. Very gently, he leaned over and lifted little Bethany out.

"She's really running a temperature," he said, rocking the baby in an attempt to calm her. "How long has she been like this?"

"Two or three days now. She just won't stop crying and she can't keep any food down." Maria's anguish was clear on her face and in her voice.

"We really need to get her to hospital."

"No, I can't. I mean," she gestured hopelessly at their surroundings. "Do I look like I've got medical insurance?"

"Don't you worry about that," Mark hurried to assure her. "Don't you worry at all. Let's just concentrate on getting her better. Steve, will you call an ambulance, please?"

"What about Kim?" Maria caught Steve's arm as he prepared to go outside to use his phone. "You said he'd been arrested. What did he do?"

"There's no easy way to tell you this," Steve answered. "But Kim's in a lot of trouble. Maria, he shot somebody."

*****

Mark rode back to Community General in the ambulance with Maria and Bethany. The girl was absolutely distraught when she learned the details of Kim's crime. Not only did she have her baby to worry about, but now she had to face the foreseeable future without her boyfriend.

When they got to the hospital, Mark not only admitted Bethany, but Maria as well. In spite of her protests, he settled her into a room and gave her a sedative. He waited with her until she dropped off to sleep, then quietly left. Steve was waiting for him outside.

"Somebody her age shouldn't have to go through something like this," he said, looking at her through the window. "She's only a kid herself."

"But old enough to get into a lot of trouble. How is she ever going to manage alone?"

"I've been thinking about that. I spoke to the guys at the station and Kim Ho has made a full confession. Now he knows his baby's safe, he's prepared to take whatever punishment's thrown at him."

"Juvenile detention?"

"More than likely. Unless... someone were to intervene on his behalf."

"I don't know, son. He shot Jesse, after all. Sick baby or not, that's a very serious offence."

"I know but, in his statement, Ho claims that he never meant to shoot anyone. He only took the gun as a threat. Then he said that he was so scared, that he couldn't even aim straight. He was shaking so hard that the gun went off. It was an accident, dad and he is truly sorry."

Mark thought about it for a moment, asking himself what Jesse would do in such a situation. He found that it was a question he couldn't answer. Jesse had almost died. It would be hard for anyone to consider leniency under such circumstances.

"I think you should speak to Jesse first," he answered eventually.

"I'd planned to talk to him in the morning. Then I'll speak to the DA and I think we might have a chance, Kim's never been in trouble before, but he'd be more likely to escape a custodial sentence if the victim, Jesse, were to speak on his behalf."

"That's a lot to ask of him."

"I know, but this is Jesse we're talking about." Steve spoke with a confidence that Mark could not share. "He's a doctor and one thing he's not short on is compassion."

***** 

Steve called by the hospital on his way into work the next day. It was early, but Jesse was already awake and picking at his breakfast.

"Hey, Jess. How are you feeling?" In spite of his assurances to his dad, Steve was a little nervous about the task he had set for himself. It didn't help matters when Jesse barely grunted in response to his greeting.

"So, dad told you that we caught the guy who did this?" Steve pressed on, putting his friend's reticence down to the fact that he'd just woken up. "Jesse, that's what I really need to talk to you about."

"Why? You caught him, lock him up."

"It's not quite that simple. The guy who shot you, Kim Ho, he's just thirteen years old."

"So? Like that makes a difference?"

"Jesse, he's not a bad kid." Steve was becoming distinctly uncomfortable with Jesse's almost hostile responses. "He just got himself into a Hell of a mess and he was desperate. He didn't mean to hurt you, the gun just went off."

"Where are you going with this, Steve? What do you want from me?"

"I want to help Kim Ho and his girlfriend. They have a..."

"No."

"What?" By now, Steve was more than a little put out by his friend's behaviour. He wasn't even giving him a chance to explain. "If you'd just let me finish..."

"No," Jesse repeated, firmly. "I can't believe you're doing this. He almost killed me, Steve and you want to let him off?"

"Jesse, you don't understand..."

"No, I don't understand. An inch and a half, that's all it was. An inch and a half and we wouldn't be having this conversation." He held his fingers apart for emphasis, as if Steve needed reminding how close he had come to dying. "And I sure as Hell hope you wouldn't be trying to get him off a murder charge."

"It was an accident..."

That prompted a snort of disbelieving laughter. 

"He pointed a gun at me. What's so _accidental_ about that?"

Steve was becoming increasingly annoyed by the constant interruptions, but he somehow kept a lid on his temper. He knew that Jesse was scared and hurting and they were the reasons behind his behaviour.

"Jesse, please, just hear me out," he tried again.

"No, I don't want to. I don't care about Kim Ho. He shot me and I want to see him go down for a long time."

Steve just looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head.

"I just don't understand you," he said quietly. "Kenny Parker kidnapped you and threatened to kill you and yet you could still show him compassion."

"That was different. Kenny Parker needed help. His daughter had just died."

"Kim Ho has..."

"And seeing as you brought it up, what about Kenny Parker? What did he die for? He died because he didn't believe in justice and he was right."

"Jesse..."

"Gianni De Marco's thug killed that little girl and what did you do about it? Nothing! He got away with it. Why is that, Steve? Is De Marco that untouchable? Is the whole of the police force on his payroll?"

Steve stared at him as though he'd been slapped. He felt the colour drain from his face, as he absorbed those cruel words. His anger was growing again, but this time he didn't even try to keep it in check.

"How dare you?" He hissed. "How dare you even suggest that? De Marco threatened me with a law-suit because I tried so Damned hard to find out what happened to Chloe Parker. I almost got a suspension. You know that! And I did it for you, Jesse. I did it because I could see how much her death was hurting you. But you know what? Now I'm wondering why the Hell I bothered!"

Steve's voice had got progressively louder, until he practically yelled those final words. Then, without giving Jesse the chance to respond, he stormed from the room.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: See Part One.

Author's notes: Continued thanks for the reviews. You guys are great. 

VICTIMS

__

(PART FOUR)

Jesse lay on his bed, staring at the door, wondering what had just happened. He hadn't meant to say those things to his friend and he certainly didn't mean them. Steve was a great cop and had always been there for him. He owed him his life, on more than one occasion.

But when he had started trying to defend Kim Ho, Jesse had been hurt and he'd wanted to hurt Steve in return. Kenny Parker's suicide still weighed heavily on his mind and it galled him to think that nobody had ever been punished for what that man went through. He knew that it wasn't Steve's fault, but he'd needed to strike out at someone and the detective had been the nearest target.

A part of him was still angry, furious that his best friend would choose to side with his assailant. The rest of him knew that Steve would have his reasons and, if he'd only taken the time to listen, he would have explained those reasons to him.

_Why should he have to? _he thought, suddenly finding that anger was winning the battle of his mixed up emotions. _If it was Mark lying here, he wouldn't be doing this. He'd throw the book at him._

Jesse was surprised to find just how bitter he still felt. He'd been shot, had almost died. Was it too much to ask for his friends to stand by him?

Such thoughts were still chasing themselves around Jesse's head when Mark entered the room a few minutes later. 

"How do you feel?" he asked, his tone grave.

Jesse bit his lip and looked away. Now the person that he trusted and respected more than anyone else in the world knew about his lack of rationality, of compassion. He found that he couldn't answer.

"Steve told me that you were... upset."

"Did he tell you why?" Jesse ignored the hesitation in Mark's words. He knew that "upset" was _not _the word that Steve had used.

"No. And he didn't tell me why he was so angry when he left here."

"I just can't understand why Steve's doing this to me." Jesse's tone was plaintive and Mark was disconcerted to see tears in the young man's eyes. "Why does he want him to walk free after what he did?"

"He's thirteen years old," Mark reminded him gently. "What else did Steve tell you about him?"

"I know he said it was an accident, but I can't believe that. If he really didn't mean to shoot me, why did he then rob me and go off to spend my money, instead of getting help?"

"Do you know what he was buying, when he tried to use..."

"I don't want to know!" Jesse interrupted harshly. "It doesn't matter if he was buying medicine for his sick old mother. He left me to die!"

Mark recoiled from the fury emanating from his normally placid friend. Something was definitely wrong here, something more than just what was happening with Kim Ho.

"Just answer me one question, Mark," Jesse pressed on. "If he hadn't been arrested, if he hadn't been dumb enough to use my credit card, would he have given a Damn about what happened to me? Would he have even cared if I'd lived or died?"

"He has asked after you and he's glad that you're alright." _At least physically,_ Mark added to himself. "But at the time, he had other priorities."

"Other priorities," Jesse snorted. "What could be so important..."

"Namely his baby daughter."

Mark watched sadly as all the colour drained from his friend's face and his look of anger was replaced by horror.

"Christ, Mark." His voice was a harsh whisper. "You said he was only thirteen years old."

"He is. And his girlfriend is fourteen." There was infinite compassion in Mark's tone. "Baby Bethany is just coming up to three months. Jesse, Bethany is downstairs in paediatrics. She has leukaemia."

"Oh, no."

Jesse's fragile hold on his emotions finally crumbled. Mark watched in silence as the young doctor's face crumpled and the tears that he'd fought so hard to keep in check spilled down his cheeks. Still without speaking, Mark sat down next to him and took him into his arms, holding him as he wept.

*****

When the flood of tears finally stopped, Mark didn't immediately release his hold on the young man. He gave him time to compose himself, knowing that he would be needlessly embarrassed by his outburst.

"I'm sorry," Jesse muttered eventually, but still making no attempt to pull away from Mark.

"You've nothing to be sorry for. I know that must have been a shock for you. I was just trying to help you understand. Maria is going to need Kim with her, if she's going to get through this."

"I guess."

"So will you do it?" Mark pulled back so he could look at Jesse. "Will you put in a good word for him?"

"Steve never asked me to do that," Jesse pulled away and his gaze dropped to the blankets. Again, Mark wondered just what had happened between the two friends.

"Well, Steve's planning to speak to the DA, to ask for leniency, but he'll have a better chance of success if you'll speak on Kim's behalf as well."

"I guess."

Unseen by Jesse, who was still focussed on the bedclothes, Mark studied him frowningly. Jesse seemed to be on an emotional roller coaster, ranging from his frightening fury, to this profoundly disturbing lethargy. Not to mention the crying fit in between.

Mark instantly recognised the symptoms. He would have noticed sooner had he not been so caught up in Kim and Maria. He reached out to touch Jesse's shoulder, but the young man didn't even glance up at him.

"I need to speak to Doctor Morton. Will you be alright?"

All he got in response was a nod and a shrug.

*****

Steve was nowhere in sight when Mark exited Jesse's room and for that he was truly sorry. He really wanted to talk to his son, to find out what had happened between him and Jesse and maybe go some way as to explaining why. Now, though, that would have to wait. Jesse's health had to be his priority.

"Is Doctor Morton still here?" he asked the duty nurse. He had his suspicions about what was happening and was barely able to keep his anger out of his voice.

"No, I'm sorry. He's working nights."

"Then I need to see his notes on Doctor Travis as a matter of urgency." He accompanied the nurse to her desk. "Oh and I don't want Jesse having any more medication until I say so."

"But Doctor Morton..."

Mark silenced her with a glare, as he pulled Jesse's file. He found what he was looking for in no time. Unlike the notes on Jesse's chart, the handwriting in his file was perfectly legible. Perhaps Philip Morton had thought that not even Mark Sloan would go through files marked as confidential.

As far as Mark was concerned, his methods were irrelevant. They could argue the ethics at some other time. At least he had his answer. Mark looked again at the information he'd uncovered and his face tightened with anger.

"Damn that man," he muttered.

*****

Amanda went to visit Jesse that lunchtime. She knocked lightly on the door before poking her head in, a bright smile on her face. What she saw momentarily stopped her dead in her tracks.

Jesse was sitting on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Overcoming her shock at seeing him like that, Amanda rushed over to him.

"Oh Jesse, honey," she sat next to him and put on arm around his shoulders. "Whatever's wrong?"

Jesse didn't even acknowledge her. He was rocking slightly and his eyes were unfocussed, staring off into the distance.

"Jesse, please." Again, Amanda tried to get through to him. "Sweetheart, tell me what's wrong."

But there was still no sign that Jesse had even heard her. Amanda looked towards the door, desperate to fetch help, but unwilling to leave her friend alone in such a state. The problem was solved for her in no time, as Mark entered the room, looking grim.

"Mark, thank God," she sighed, her relief unmistakable. "He was like this when I got here."

"It's alright, Amanda, I know what's wrong with him. I'm going to have to get him sedated, then I'll explain."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Without warning, Jesse had come out of his stupor and began to rant at them. "You're always doing that. You always gang up on me, making me do things I don't wanna do. I bet you wish he'd killed me."

Amanda had instinctively tightened her grip on the young man and she murmured soothing words to him, as Mark approached him with a hypodermic needle. She kept this up as the sedative began to take effect, then waited until his breathing became slow and regular before lowering him back onto the bed.

"What's going on, Mark?" she asked, when she was sure that Jesse was asleep.

"You know when Jesse picked up that infection? Well, for some reason, Doctor Morton chose to prescribe him myzephomine."

"I've never heard of it."

"No, you wouldn't have. It's new to the market under that name. It was withdrawn last year under a different name, due to adverse side effects, including mood swings and severe depression, leading to an unacceptable number of suicides."

"My God."

"I knew that it had been re-launched, but I never knew that it was in stock at this hospital. I'll make Damned sure it isn't from now on."

"But what was Doctor Morton thinking? He must have known of the dangers."

"I'm sure he did. But I also know that Benson Labs has invested an awful lot of money into this project. I've got a feeling that would include generous incentives for doctors willing to run the drugs trials."

"That's terrible. You can't just experiment with people's lives like that. Poor Jesse."

"Well, the good news is that he's been taking it for less than two days. I dread to think what would have happened if he'd taken the whole course."

"What are you going to do?" Amanda asked, looking down at her sleeping friend. At that moment, she couldn't see any good news in Jesse's situation.

"I'm going to keep him under for a while." Mark answered, following her gaze. "At least long enough for the drugs to start working their way out of his system. Then I'm going to have a long talk with Philip Morton.

*****

Mark was exhausted by the time he got home that night. It had been a traumatic day. His confrontation with Philip Morton had been brief, but intense. Mark had effectively sacked him from Community General and warned him that his conduct would be investigated by the Medical Council. He fully expected the man never to practise medicine again.

He didn't like having to do that, but Jesse had suffered greatly at his hands. Even now, his young friend was still sleeping under the influence of sedatives.

But, no matter how tired he was, Mark knew that his day was not yet over. There was one more thing he had to do. 

"Steve, can you come up here?" he called and was rewarded moments later by the sound of his son's footsteps on the stairs.

Mark sat down on the couch and waited until Steve had sat next to him.

"Son, I need to talk to you about Jesse." Mark was dismayed to see Steve's face cloud over at the mention of his friend's name. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened at the hospital today."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Steve, please. It is important."

Steve didn't answer for a long moment. In truth, he was surprised by just how much Jesse's words had hurt him. It didn't matter that they had been spoken in anger, it was the fact that they had been spoken at all. He had thought that he and Jesse were best friends, but if the doctor could really think such things of him, then maybe it was time to re-evaluate that friendship.

"He accused me of taking bribes." Steve looked at his dad and was unable to keep the hurt out of his eyes.

"Oh no." Mark closed his eyes briefly. "Steve, you have to understand that none of this is Jesse's fault. He was prescribed a drug that..."

"It doesn't matter." Steve spoke softly and kept his gaze fixed on the carpet.

"What? I can see that you're still angry with him." Mark leaned forward intently. "But Jesse had no control of his emotions. The mood swings, the depression, the irrational anger, they were all side-effects of the drug. He didn't know what he was saying. Give him the chance to apologise."

"I don't want an apology. What I want is for him never to have said it."

"It's too late for that, son. Jesse's going to know that he's hurt you and he's really going to hate himself for it. He's been through a lot and he doesn't need this on top of everything else. At least talk to him. Please."

"That's just the problem," Steve sighed. "I don't know if I can."

"Steve..."

"Don't you see? This has nothing to do with a bad reaction to some drugs. It's Jesse we're talking about here and he would _never _say something like that, no matter what." He looked at Mark with infinite sadness. "Not unless some part of him, however small, believed it was true."

Steve ended the conversation then by getting up and going back downstairs, closing the door firmly behind him. Mark stared after him in shocked silence, wondering how on Earth he was going to resolve this.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: See part one.

Author's notes: Glad everyone's enjoying this because I'm having great fun writing it!

VICTIMS

__

(PART FIVE)

"So, does Steve completely despise me?"

It had been more than twenty-four hours since Jesse had stopped taking the myzephomine and he was getting back towards being his normal self. He still suffered some residual depression but, that morning, Mark knew that the desolation in his tone had nothing to do with the drugs.

Mark had known that this conversation was inevitable, but that didn't make it any easier. He sat down next to his friend's bed.

"Jesse," he began. "Steve wouldn't tell me exactly what it was that you said to him. "Only that it was something about bribes."

"I accused him of being on Gianni De Marco's payroll and said that was why nobody had ever been prosecuted for Chloe Parker's death." Jesse spoke quietly and without looking at the other man. "Christ, Mark. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Now, Jesse, that wasn't you talking. You were under the influence of a very dangerous drug. Steve knows that and he'll also know that you didn't mean it. You just have to give him time."

"I can't believe it," Jesse whispered and Mark knew that his words had done nothing to reassure him. "Steve was just doing what Steve always does, trying to help somebody. How could I attack him like that?"

"Jess..."

"How is the kid? The little girl?" he frowned, knowing that Mark had told him her name, but some of his memory was still a little blurry.

"Bethany," Mark supplied, seeing his struggle. "Well, they've started her treatment and she's responding reasonably well, but it's going to be a long, hard battle. She wasn't in the most sanitary of environments."

"And her dad? The guy who shot me?"

"Kim Ho." Mark made a mental note of Jesse's inability to remember those names. Hopefully it was just an after-effect of the drug and would cure itself. At worst, Jesse's subconscious could be blocking those memories, effectively distancing him from people he might otherwise be sympathetic of. "Steve's still working on that. He's meeting with the DA tomorrow."

"Tell him..." Jesse looked pleadingly at the older man. "Tell him I'll do whatever it takes. You know, if it will make things better."

"Jesse, if you're going to speak on behalf of Kim Ho, then you have to do it for the right reasons. You have to do it because you believe it's the right thing to do. Not just because you want to make up with Steve."

"But.."

"This isn't a decision you can make lightly. Take some time to think about it. Ask yourself why you're doing it. Then we'll talk again later, okay?"

Jesse nodded, recognising the wisdom of his mentor's words. Mark stood up to leave, but Jesse caught his arm.

"Tell him I'm sorry."

"He knows, Jesse. I promise you, he knows."

*****

The very nature of Steve's work meant that he was unable to avoid the hospital completely. That afternoon, on his way to see the DA, he'd had to call by and pick up an autopsy report from Amanda. Then the young pathologist had effectively bullied him into taking her to lunch.

They sat in a quiet corner of the hospital canteen and Amanda studied the detective as he ate.

"What?" he asked eventually, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"Jesse's getting better," she replied in a neutral voice.

"That's good news." Steve suddenly found his plate of pasta completely fascinating.

"You could always go and see for yourself."

"No."

"So, are you going to tell me why?"

Steve sighed and laid down his fork. He wanted nothing more than to escape this conversation, but knew that Amanda wouldn't let it go that easily.

"How much has dad told you?"

"Only that Jesse said something cruel to you, but that it was while he was sick. What's going on, Steve? You know Jesse would never..."

"That's the problem, Amanda. I know Jesse too well and for him to say what he did..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What could be so bad? You know he was having a drugs reaction. You should have seen him, it was awful. Those drugs really messed with his mind."

"I keep telling myself that, but it doesn't change anything. Even under the influence of drugs, I can't believe that Jesse would think me capable of taking bribes."

Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but Steve never gave her the chance.

"Don't Amanda," he warned her. "Don't tell me that he didn't mean it."

"But you know he didn't."

"Do I? If you'd have been there, Amanda. If you'd have seen his contempt, not just for me, but for everything that I stand for..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "He knew exactly what he was saying. And he meant every word."

*****

"I've thought about what you said, Mark and you were right." It was later in the afternoon and Jesse and Mark were once again talking about Kim Ho. "I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I want to."

"That's understandable."

"Look at what he's put me through. Not only the shooting, but then Doctor Morton. And now Steve. How can I just let him walk away?"

Mark could see that Jesse was still trying to justify his decision and so said nothing, not wanting to influence him in any way.

"I mean, I know it wouldn't be constructive for... him to be locked up." Again, Mark noticed his unwillingness to use his attacker's name. "But he has to be punished. I know there were extenuating circumstances, but he shot me, Mark. Am I such a bad person not to want to forgive him?"

"No, Jesse, you're not." Mark had to respond to the anguish in his voice. "You're human. It's perfectly understandable to feel like that."

"Steve's not going to see it that was though, is he?"

"Don't you worry about Steve. I'll explain to him." Mark injected confidence into his tone, even though he was not at all sure what his son's reaction would be.

"Can't you ask him to come here? I want to explain for myself. I need to talk to him. To apologise."

"Steve's really busy at the moment..."

"Don't, Mark. Don't lie to me. You mean he's still mad."

"Yeah, he's still mad," Mark admitted, ruefully. "But he will calm down, just give him time."

*****

Mark tried to talk to Steve over breakfast the next morning. He wanted to try and make Steve understand why Jesse had come to the decision that he had. He most certainly didn't want this driving a wedge any further between them. Unfortunately, the talk did not go well.

"Forget it, dad," Steve snapped, barely giving Mark the chance to begin his explanation. "I had a feeling he was going to do this."

"It's not a decision he came to lightly," Mark argued. "You have to try and look at this from Jesse's point of view."

"I am. Jesse's a doctor, he's supposed to have empathy and compassion. But no, all he wants to do is lock the kid up and throw away the key."

"That's not very fair..."

"I'm not being fair?" The moment that Steve flared up, Mark knew that he'd lost. "How fair is Jesse being to Kim Ho? He's thirteen, with a sick baby. _That's_ what's not fair."

"Steve, you have to remember that Jesse has never even met these people. He's not as emotionally involved as you are."

"I am _not _emotionally involved. I'm just trying to do the right thing here."

Forsaking the rest of his breakfast, Steve grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the house.

*****

Later that day, Steve sat in his car, stuck in traffic. He was on his way to the DA's office and was determined that, even without Jesse's help, he would do his best for Kim Ho.

The traffic was driving him mad, barely moving at a crawl and the inactivity was giving him way too much time to think. He was also getting angrier by the minute, both at himself and at Jesse.

He had always loved being a cop and had never before doubted either his ability or his integrity. Jesse had changed all of that. Those words had stung him. He'd tried to shrug them off, telling himself all of the reasons for his friend's behaviour, but they kept coming back until he was starting to believe that at least a part of what he'd said was true.

_"He died because he didn't believe in justice and he was right."_

There was no justice. Chloe and Kenny Parker had died for nothing. And now, when Jesse so badly needed that faith in the justice system to be restored, Steve was trying to take it away from him. He hadn't even had the chance to explain why.

Steve glanced out of the window. Traffic going in the other direction was flowing smoothly. Coming to a sudden decision, he pulled a completely illegal U-turn and headed back towards the hospital.

*****

"Jesse, wake up. I need to talk to you."

The young doctor blinked groggily, as he realised that someone was shaking him. Then full awareness returned and he stiffened as he recognised both the voice and the face of Philip Morton. Instinctively, he reached towards the call button, but Morton was too quick for him and easily caught hold of his wrist.

"Don't, please. Just listen to what I have to say."

Jesse nodded warily, but didn't relax his guard. Morton had closed all of the blinds and shut the door. There were no witnesses to their conversation. Without being invited, Morton sat on the edge of the bed.

"I only came back to apologise." The older man seemed sincere, but Jesse's gaze was still distrustful. "What I did was unforgivable. It must have been awful for you."

"It was."

"I can only say how sorry I am and try to explain my reasons. When Benson Labs approached me, I never intended to test their Damned drug. I knew what it used to be, it's reputation."

"You knew?" Jesse stared at him disbelievingly. "You knew what it was capable of and you still..."

"Please, hear me out. Last year I got into some trouble, financially. I won't go into the details, but I lost everything. My wife, my home. I just needed to get back on my feet and Benson labs..."

"You did it for money? I can't believe that. Is that supposed to make it alright?" Jesse shook his head. Some of his memories of his time under the influence of myzephomine were sketchy, but still incredibly painful. "What you put me through..."

"Listen, I was desperate, you have to understand that. I made a mistake, that's all. It could happen to anyone. How was I supposed to know you were going to have such a bad reaction? But you're alright now. No lasting harm was done."

Jesse listened, absolutely dumbfounded._ No lasting harm._ He remembered the look on Steve's face the last time he had seen him. He wanted to yell at the man, to tell him exactly what his precious drug had cost him, but he couldn't find the words.

"Jesse, that's what I want to talk to you about," Morton continued. "I've severed all ties with Benson Labs. I'll never do anything like that again, but I need another chance. Doctor Sloan is going to report me to the Medical Council. That's going to cost me my licence. I love being a doctor, Jesse. I don't know what I'll do if they stop me from practising medicine. Will you talk to him, please? Get him to change his mind."

"No." Jesse shook his head, appalled by what he was hearing. "What you did was... And it wasn't just me, was it? Mark said that there were half a dozen of your patients on that drug. What were they doing, paying you by the head?"

"It wasn't like that..."

"I don't care what it was like. You're supposed to be a doctor, you're supposed to prevent suffering, not cause it."

Morton grabbed hold of Jesse's wrist again and his grip was painfully tight. He leaned in closer to him.

"Get Doctor Sloan to change his mind." Any pretence at politeness was gone from his tone. "You don't want me as an enemy."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Oh yes, Doctor Travis. You'd better believe that I am."

TO BE CONTINUED... 


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Still at Part One

Author's notes: As always, thanks to everyone who's reviewed this. You're my inspiration!

VICTIMS

__

(PART SIX)

When Steve got to the hospital, he headed straight to Jesse's room, fully intending to have a long talk with his friend and at least try to clear the air between them. What he found when he got there forced him to put those plans on hold.

Jesse was sprawled across his bed, his eyes closed and his face pale. Sweat stood out on his forehead and one hand clutched at his chest.

"Oh my God, Jesse!" Steve ran over to his stricken friend. It looked like he was having a heart attack.

A quick check showed Steve that he was breathing, but his pulse was racing. Steve stabbed repeatedly at the call button. When nobody immediately came, he ran back to the door. As luck would have it, he spotted his father at the nurse's station.

"Dad! Help me! It's Jesse!"

He was back at his friend's side in an instant, with Mark not far behind him, trailing two nurses in his wake. By now, Jesse was gasping for breath and Mark quite forcefully moved Steve away from the bed.

"Give me room, son."

Steve found himself pushed to the back of the room as the team worked on Jesse. He watched silently as they fitted him with an oxygen mask and he didn't try to follow when they wheeled him out of the room.

*****

Steve sat in the now empty room, staring at nothing and fervently praying that his friend was going to be alright. There were things that he needed to say to Jesse, to try and take back some of the hurt they'd caused one another. Now he could only hope that he got the chance.

His eyes were drawn to the night-stand. There was a little plastic cup on it, the kind used to deliver pills to patients. Steve picked it up and turned it over slowly in his hands, feeling dread suddenly rise in him. He closed his eyes. If his suspicions were correct, then Jesse's latest suffering might well be his fault.

Mark found him, still sitting there, over an hour later. Steve glanced up as his dad entered the room and Mark was shocked by the raw pain on his face.

"Steve, it's okay." He moved swiftly to crouch in front of his son. "He's going to be fine."

"What happened?"

"Well, that's the part I don't really understand. Jesse has somehow ingested an overdose of a kind of steroid. Not enough to do him any lasting damage, but it must have really given him a scare."

"How can something like that happen?" Steve was still toying with the plastic cup, not knowing how to ask the question that was at the forefront of his mind.

"It can't," Mark answered frankly. "Any prescribed drugs are stringently checked before being distributed. There are safeguards in place specifically to stop this sort of accident from happening."

"Are you sure that's what it was, dad? An accident?"

"Of course it was. What else could it have been? Unless you think that someone deliberately..."

"Not someone. Jesse." The words were quietly spoken, but Mark couldn't have been more shocked if he'd screamed them at him.

"Jesse? Why would he..?" Mark was momentarily lost for words. "You mean, you think he's suicidal? Not Jesse. No, I'm sure you're wrong."

"You know he's not been himself, dad. What with those drugs messing with his head. What if he wasn't really over it? Amanda said his depression was terrifying. What if he's just been hiding it from us? Jesse would know how to get the drugs and he'd know what to take."

"I'm sorry, Steve, but I honestly can't believe that Jesse would do something like this."

"Look at the timing of it. You'd done your rounds, I was on my way to the DA's office. If I hadn't have turned around when I did..." In a sudden fit of anger, he hurled the cup across the room. "Dammit, dad! I've been so stubborn with him. I haven't seen him since we argued. I haven't even spoken to him."

"You can just stop that right now." Mark grabbed him by the shoulders. "You are in absolutely no way to blame for what happened today. If you think that your argument might have driven Jesse to this, then you're wrong. I still don't believe that he deliberately tried to hurt himself, but only he can give us the answers and he can't do that until he wakes up."

"I was so scared when I saw him like that, dad."

"I know, son. So was I. But all that matters now is that he's going to be alright. He won't wake up for some hours yet. In the meantime, don't you have an appointment with the DA?"

*****

Steve returned to the hospital later that afternoon and with mixed feelings following his meeting. The DA, Morgan Woodward, had been surprisingly sympathetic when he'd explained the reason for his visit. However, she had also been unable to make any promises.

The main stumbling block had been the fact that Kim Ho had no recognised permanent address. The old house where they had found Maria and Bethany had been little more than a squat.

The second problem was that Kim's parents refused to take responsibility for him. Welfare officers had managed to track down both sets of parents, but the reports from their interviews made grim reading. Maria's parents had completely disowned her, the moment they'd found out that she was pregnant and Kim's were no better.

Still, Morgan did agree with Steve's belief that a custodial sentence would be counter-productive. Steve had left the office, feeling mildly optimistic, following her promise to "look into it further".

When he got back to Community General, he met up with his dad at the front desk.

"How's Jesse?" he asked.

"Much better. We're still keeping an eye on him, but there shouldn't be any further complications." 

"Is he awake yet?"

"He'll be coming around soon. I'm just on my way to see him now." He glanced at his son. "So how did you get on?"

"About as well as can be expected, under the circumstances."

They walked towards the elevators together and Steve filled him in on the details of his meeting.

*****

For Jesse, waking up was a painful experience. His chest hurt, his throat hurt and his head was pounding. He forced his eyes open and found Steve and Mark looking down at him. 

"How are you feeling?" Mark asked, reaching for the ever-present ice chips.

"Not so good," Jesse answered honestly. Now his stomach had started churning to add to his misery. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that." Jesse could see real concern on Steve's face and frowned as his memory gradually returned.

"Morton!" He gasped suddenly. "He was in my room. He threatened me and he must have... I don't know. What did he do to me?"

"You were given an overdose of steroids, Jess." Mark explained, sparing a triumphant glance towards his son. He'd known there had to be another explanation, other than his suicide theory. "Do you know how he did that?"

"He just talked, mostly." Jesse shook his head. "Then he grabbed hold of my wrist and told me that I had to convince you not to report him to the Medical Council."

"Then what?"

"He left, then the nurse came in with my pills. Then I woke up here."

"The nurse," Steve put in. "Do you remember who she was?"

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut as he sought to remember, but he'd not really paid too much attention to her. He shook his head helplessly.

"It doesn't matter, we can soon find out that information," Mark frowned. "Morton must have somehow switched your medication."

"He tried to kill me?"

"No, it wasn't a lethal dose, but it could have been very nasty if Steve hadn't found you when he did."

"You went to my room?" Jesse seemed surprised by that statement.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about something." Steve didn't elaborate further, not wanting to cause his friend any more distress. "But don't worry about it now. I gotta go."

"Go where?" Mark asked, as he stood up.

"To find Philip Morton."

*****

Steve stormed up the stairs to Morton's apartment and hammered on the door. The disgraced doctor answered almost immediately and Steve went in without waiting to be invited.

"Lieutenant Sloan." Morton seemed genuinely surprised to see him. "What can I do for you?"

"You can start by telling me how you thought you were going to get away with poisoning Jesse."

"Poisoning Jesse?" Again there was that apparent surprise, but Steve wasn't fooled for a second. "Seeing as I've already had this confrontation with your father, I presume that you're not talking about the myzephomine."

"I'm talking about an overdose of steroids."

"And you think that I had something to do with it? That's a very serious accusation, Lieutenant." Morton's smile was predatory. "I do hope you have plenty of proof."

"You were at the hospital today."

"I was indeed. In case you're forgetting, I did used to work there. And, as you know, I was also recently fired. I had to pick some things up. Oh, I also wanted to apologise to Doctor Travis."

"So you were in his room." Steve was bluffing. He knew that he didn't have one shred of evidence, only Jesse's word. He thought ruefully of the pill container that he'd flung across the room. It was too much to hope that it might still be there, or that it might yield any clues.

"It would be difficult to apologise if I weren't in the room," Morton smirked. "And, before you ask, he was fine when I left him."

"He said that you threatened him."

"Did he now? Well, that's understandable. He is still getting over his little... reaction to the myzephomine." Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Morton pressed on, not giving him the chance. "You saw what he was like. The mood swings, the depression. And you can add paranoia to that list as well. It's closely related to his other symptoms. Ask your father, he knows."

"He's over that now."

"Apparently he isn't. I'd keep an eye on him, if I were you. People have been known to become suicidal..."

"You did that to him!" Steve couldn't help himself. He grabbed hold of Morton's shirt-front and slammed him back against the wall. It took all of his restraint not to draw his gun.

"I've admitted that I gave him myzephomine and I've been punished for it." Morton didn't seem at all phased by the violent outburst. "What I did might have been unethical, but it was by no means illegal. Now, I suggest you let go of me, before I decide that I have to call my lawyer."

Steve knew that he was beaten and grudgingly released the man.

"I'm going to pretend that never happened. I really don't want to have to call your Captain." Morton was openly gloating now. "I know that it's just because you're worried about Jesse. He's lucky to have a friend like you."

"I'll get the proof."

"No you won't, because there is none to get. Now, leave my apartment and don't come back, or I will file a complaint against you."

Steve forced himself to bite down on his anger when, in truth, he really wanted to start breaking things. He paused on the threshold and turned back.

"Leave him alone, Morton." His voice was threatening. "I mean it."

"Goodbye, Lieutenant."

Morton closed the door firmly behind him and Steve was left on the landing, cursing silently to himself.

*****

The shrill ringing of a telephone dragged Jesse out of his sleep later that night. He reached out to answer it and grunted a greeting.

"Hello, Jesse. How are you today?"

Jesse felt panic race through him. It was Morton.

"What do you want?" He was instantly wide awake.

"You told Steve that I tried to kill you."

"Are you saying that you didn't?"

"Oh no," Morton chuckled softly, but completely without mirth. "That was just a warning."

"Some warning." Unconsciously, Jesse's free hand had moved to his chest. It still felt tight and hurt if he breathed too deeply.

"Not for you. The warning was for Mark Sloan. Tell him not to go to the Medical Council."

"He won't listen."

"Oh, I think he will. I got to you, Jesse. I could have easily killed you, if I'd wanted to. And, if I can get to you, I can get to anybody."

"What do you mean?" Jesse wanted to call for help, but couldn't risk Morton hanging up on him. He had to find out the madman's plans.

"I know all about his little project. You know, the baby of the guy that shot you. Maybe I'll target her next. What do you think, Jesse? What if I gave her a dose of what I gave you? Do you think she'd survive?" 

"You sick..."

"Tell him, Jesse. Convince him. If he agrees, I'll even leave LA and you need never hear from me again. But I _must _be allowed to practise medicine."

Morton hung up then and Jesse just stared at the receiver in horrified silence. Then he pulled himself together and frantically began to dial the beach house.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: As in part one.

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but a horrid little thing called work got in the way! Hope it's worth the wait!

VICTIMS

__

(PART SEVEN)

Steve slammed shut the door of the beach house, then leaned against it and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. 

"Damn that man," he cursed, unconsciously echoing his father's own words about Philip Morton.

It was late. After his visit to Morton's apartment, Steve had gone back to the hospital and spent hours questioning everybody who'd been on duty on Jesse's floor of the hospital that day. He still had no idea how Morton had managed to switch the medication.

"I take it you've spoken to Morton, then?" Mark asked, looking up from the book he'd been reading. 

Considering the hour, Steve was surprised to find him still up. But then, his dad's insatiable curiosity probably wouldn't have let him sleep anyway.

"Oh, I spoke to him alright and, of course, he denied everything." Steve flung himself onto the couch. "I know that he did it. I just can't prove it."

"It was always going to be difficult. Even if you did find Morton's prints on anything, they'd have had every right to be there."

" Well, I'm not just going to let him get away with it."

"He won't. From what Jesse was saying, he sounds desperate and desperate men make mistakes."

Steve was prevented from answering by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Mark got up to answer it.

"Hello..? Now calm down, Jesse... Tell me exactly what he said... Jesse! Slow down, you'll do yourself no good by getting all worked up... Take a couple of deep breaths... That's it... Now start from the beginning..."

Steve frowned as he listened to the one-sided conversation. Nothing in Mark's responses gave him any clue as to what had got his friend so agitated. He could only wait, in growing frustration, until his dad put the phone down.

"What's happened?" 

"Morton's called Jesse." Mark's tone was grim. "This time he's threatened to hurt Bethany if I go to the Medical Council."

Steve looked as shocked as Mark felt. Hurting Jesse was one thing, but he couldn't understand how anybody could target a defenceless child.

"I'll call the hospital," Mark continued. "We'll keep security on Bethany's room at all times, until we can resolve this."

"It wouldn't do any harm to keep somebody with Jesse either." Steve put in. "There's no telling what Morton will try next."

*****

Philip Morton wasn't a stupid man, he had qualified as a doctor after all. He knew that no amount of threats were going to salvage his career, but he couldn't just sit back and do nothing. So he sat in darkness, in his apartment, thinking over his plan of action.

What he'd done to Jesse had been a mistake, but he truly believed that he was being over-harshly punished for it. After all, it had been Benson Labs who'd manufactured the drug, they who had wrapped it up in different packaging and called it something new. Of course, they would receive their fair share of punishment, but Morton couldn't see why he had to be dragged down with them.

It was all Mark Sloan's fault. Morton had seen first hand the man's compassion and ability to forgive. Why couldn't he extend some of that compassion to one doctor who'd made a mistake?

Because of Jesse Travis. If it hadn't been that particular patient who'd had such an adverse reaction to the myzephomine, then he wouldn't be in this situation now. He probably would still have been fired, but Sloan would have calmed down eventually and not reported him. It would have been hard to get another job, but not impossible. One mistake, that was all he'd made. 

Morton got up and began to pace. His career was over, he didn't doubt that for a minute, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight and he certainly wasn't going to go down without taking Mark Sloan with him. 

*****

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, but Jesse still found sleep elusive. He was aware of a security guard appearing outside his room and was surprised by how grateful he felt for that. It wouldn't prevent any more phone calls, but at least Morton wouldn't be paying him another visit. He also knew that Bethany would be receiving the same treatment and that helped to ease his worry somewhat.

Jesse drifted in and out of sleep, his mind too active to allow him to relax completely. He was, therefore, still exhausted when Mark called by to visit him the next morning. The older doctor looked at his friend, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

"Why didn't you ask for something to help you sleep?" He admonished him gently.

"How's Bethany?" Jesse countered, trying to evade the issue.

"She's fine." Mark sighed and sat down. "Jesse, your system has been under an awful lot of strain these past few days. You have to rest, if you're ever going to get better."

"I'm okay." Jesse felt mildly guilty. Mark had enough worries, without him adding to them. "I'll sleep later. I promise."

"Make sure you do. So, aside from the obvious lack of sleep, how do you feel?"

"A little better." He eased himself into a more upright position. "Still sore and it feels kinda tight across my chest."

"Those steroids put your heart under a great deal of strain," Mark explained. "Add that to the surgery you underwent and it's hardly surprising. The discomfort should pass but, if it gets any worse, let me know."

"I will."

"Alright. Well, it looks like your breakfast is here." He glanced round as the door opened. "So I'll leave you to it. Steve should be here soon."

"He said he wanted to talk to me." Mark couldn't help but notice the slight trepidation in his tone.

"It will be alright, Jesse. Trust me."

*****

It was mid-morning when Steve called in to see Jesse. He didn't know exactly what he intended to say, only that he had to say something. His terror from the day before was still sharp in his mind, as was his guilt when he'd truly thought that Jesse had attempted suicide.

For a brief moment, as he stood by Jesse's bed, Steve felt strangely awkward. It wasn't a feeling he was used to having, especially around his best friend.

"Steve, won't you sit down?" Jesse couldn't keep the nervousness out of his voice. This would be their first proper conversation since he'd made those terrible accusations.

Steve sat on the proffered chair and looked down at his hands. He didn't even know where to start. It was Jesse who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly.

Steve looked up at him. He wanted, _needed_, to be perfectly honest with his friend. When he spoke, his tone was subdued.

"So am I."

"Steve, you have no reason to apologise." Jesse was genuinely surprised by his words. "What I said to you..."

"Jess, please. I have to say this." Jesse shut up. "I am truly sorry that I couldn't nail Gianni De Marco after what happened to Chloe. I know how much it meant to you."

"But I didn't mean what I said. I was sick, the drugs..."

"I know, but a part of me can't help but thinking that, in a way, you were right."

"No."

"Yes, Jesse." Steve looked at him sincerely. "Nobody was punished for what happened to Chloe and Kenny Parker. Nobody was even arrested. That was bound to be painful for you, after what you went through. It might seem to you that I didn't try hard enough, but I did, Jess. You have to believe that I did."

"I do." The young doctor was almost in tears, horrified that he had caused his friend so much anguish.

"And then, when Kim Ho shot you," Steve continued, still staring intently at him. "I never even thought about De Marco. I never considered that you might have been completely disillusioned with the entire justice system. I just waded in regardless, trying to help the man who shot you to walk free. That's why I need to apologise."

"Steve, I do understand why you're doing it." Jesse swallowed, fighting to keep his tears at bay. "But I can't help you and I need you to understand my reasons for that."

"I do, Jesse. Now I've taken the time to step back and think about it, I do and I don't blame you for it."

Those words produced a smile from Jesse, but that smile soon faded when Steve looked away again.

"There's one other thing." Steve forced himself to look back up. "Jesse, you have to tell me, honestly and I mean absolutely honestly, do you really believe that I ever have, or would, take a bribe?"

"Steve, I..." Jesse was losing his battle against his tears. "The moment I said those words, I regretted them. I know that you could _never_ do something like that. Even with the drugs in my system, I knew I'd done something terrible. That's why I was... the way I was when Amanda found me the other day."

Steve nodded, remembering how Amanda had described his condition.

"All I could think of was how much I'd hurt you." Tears were now streaming openly down the young doctor's face. "I'd have cut my tongue out, if I'd been able. Please, Steve, you have to forgive me. You have to believe that I never meant it. I swear, I never meant it. Please."

Steve looked at Jesse, at his unmistakable anguish, at his tears and at his genuine remorse. This was his best friend, his emotions laid bare, putting himself through Hell because he wanted to preserve that friendship. Steve found that the only thing he could do was forgive him.

"Of course I do, Jesse." He moved onto the bed and put one arm around the distraught young man. "Of course I forgive you."

*****

LA was a big city and, like any big city, it had its fair share of bad guys. If you knew where to look, there was always someone who, for the right price, would be willing to do just about anything. Philip Morton knew where to look.

Even though he'd not worked at Community General for very long, he'd learned most of the haunts frequented by off-duty staff. And, with the money left over from the Benson Labs pay-off, it was easy for him to persuade some of those less desirable citizens to eavesdrop for him. 

It was that easy to keep up with the goings on inside the hospital and he never once put himself at risk. The second part of his plan, however, required a much more hands-on approach and quite a lot more help.

Morton took time out to visit a hairdresser. He was going to have to enter the hospital again and he didn't want to be instantly recognised. After that, some more money changed hands and a couple of kids were quite willing to steal a few certain items for him.

Recruiting for the final, and most crucial, part of his scheme was somewhat more difficult. He would have to place his trust in those people and that was always a problem when you were dealing with criminals. It was also a whole lot more expensive, but he eventually found enough people who he was relatively confident wouldn't let him down.

He had to promise them all extra money if they did what he asked, although that was one promise he had no intention of keeping. If everything went as planned the following day, he didn't even have to worry about those people coming looking for him.

*****

That afternoon, Mark was in his office, catching up on some paperwork, when there was a light knock at the door. A nurse poked her head in.

"Doctor Sloan? If you're not too busy, there's someone here who would like to see you."

"By all means." Mark took his glasses off, as the nurse escorted a small, Chinese woman through the door.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Sloan," he greeted her, after the nurse had left them alone. "What can I do for you?"

"Doctor Sloan, my name is Wendy Ho and I believe that you have my great-granddaughter here."

"Please, call me Mark." He reached across the desk to shake her hand. "You're Bethany's great-grandmother?"

"So that's what they called her," the woman answered sadly. "You know, until you said that, I didn't even know that they'd had a girl."

"Oh, that's terrible. Are you not close to your family?"

"I used to be, until poor Maria got pregnant. That tore our family apart. Can you believe that my son kicked his own child out onto the streets? We have barely spoken since that day."

"I'm sorry." Family rifts were one thing that Mark truly could empathise with. "But you're here now. How did you find her?"

"My no-good son called me to tell me about Kim being arrested. To gloat more than anything, ranting about how he knew that he'd turn out to be trouble. I doted on Kim and he just did it to get at me. Sometimes I wonder how I ever gave birth to such a monster."

"I'm afraid the old adage is true. You just can't choose your family." Mark smiled sympathetically, then stood up. "Now, how would you like to see your great-granddaughter?"

*****

Morton was busy half the night, making sure that everything was in place for his big moment. He did make sure that he got a few hours sleep, but was up with the dawn the next day. There was still an awful lot to do, including ensuring that all of his recruits were where they were supposed to be.

None of them had let him down and the lure of more money prevented them from questioning some of the dubious tasks he had set for them. Then he took two of them to one side and, with the promise of an extra bonus, easily persuaded them to continue working for him for the entire day.

Once that was achieved, Morton returned to his apartment to get changed and, shortly after midday, he strolled into the hospital as though he had every right to be there, ready with his excuses should anyone challenge him immediately. To his profound relief, nobody so much as looked twice at him.

He took the stairs up to Jesse's floor, not wanting to risk prolonged exposure to any one person in an elevator, then he hid in a closet, not far from his target's room and settled down to wait.

*****

All Hell broke loose later that afternoon. It began when Mark was called down to the paediatric ward. He'd left instructions to be summoned immediately if anything out of the ordinary happened. Monitors suddenly refusing to function definitely classed as out of the ordinary.

Instantly fearing for Bethany, he hurried down there. He knew there was no way that Morton should have been able to get at her, but the man had already proved to be quite ingenious.

His fears were compounded when he saw no sign of the security guard who should have been watching over her. A technician said something to him about the monitors being tampered with, but Mark paid him little attention as he rushed to the baby's side. Bethany seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but he knew better than to be fooled by appearances.

If anything happened to her, he would be responsible. Morton's fight was with him and it was wholly unfair that he should use a child as a weapon. Mark knew that he wouldn't be able to stop worrying until he had run every test available on her.

*****

Elsewhere in the hospital, the sleep that Jesse had missed out on the night before had finally caught up with him. He stirred slightly when there was some sort of commotion outside, but he truly was exhausted and the noise didn't even cause him to open his eyes.

He was rudely awakened a few moments later, when a hand was placed over his mouth and he felt a slight prick in his arm. Jesse's eyes shot open, then widened in fear, as he saw through the disguise and recognised Philip Morton.

The man had died his hair ginger and was now wearing glasses, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable. In one hand he held an empty syringe. Jesse tried to move, to hit the call button, but his limbs felt heavy and his head was swimming with drowsiness. Morton removed his hand from his mouth.

"What did you give me?" Jesse murmured and was surprised by how weak his own voice sounded.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the other man retorted. "Was it more myzephomine? Are you gonna go all psycho again? Maybe another overdose. Maybe even enough to kill you this time."

Jesse glanced towards the doors, wondering where the Hell security had got to.

"Oh, don't worry," Morton sneered. "We're not going to be disturbed. There's enough going on out there to keep everyone nice and busy for quite a while. It's just you and me."

"What do you want?" The young doctor's words were slurred by now.

"Revenge, Jesse. Mark Sloan has ruined my life and now I'm going to ruin his. And you're just the man to help me."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: See Part One.

Author's notes: More thanks for the great reviews. Special thanks to Tracey (you know why). Enjoy and remember, I survive on feedback! 

VICTIMS

__

(PART EIGHT)

The people that Morton had recruited to help him carry out his scheme had done an excellent job. The hospital corridors were in chaos. All of security had been summoned urgently to the front desk, when one of his recruits had pulled a gun, another had broken into the pharmacy and someone had tampered with the equipment in the baby unit. 

Most importantly of all, on Jesse's floor, two of his recruits were acting like drugs crazed teenagers, smashing equipment and terrorizing the staff. The security guard had had no choice but to leave his post.

Given the strength of their performances, Morton wondered if he'd actually paid them enough. 

Whilst all this was happening, Morton had waited until Jesse lost consciousness, then wrapped him up in an oversized hooded robe, before settling him into a wheelchair.

Making sure that the hood fully concealed the young doctor's face, Morton quickly checked that the coast was clear, then wheeled him towards the elevator. It was ridiculously easy. There were sounds of the ongoing chaos in the distance and the few people that he saw were all rushing towards it. Nobody paid the slightest bit of notice to one porter, pushing a wheelchair.

*****

Mark was aware that something was amiss within the hospital, the tannoy system was driving him to distraction with its constant blaring. However, he successfully managed to shut the noise out and, with a nurse's assistance, gave Bethany a thorough check-up.

He was surprised and relieved to find nothing new wrong with her. The only drugs in her system were the ones that were supposed to be there and, in fact, she was as healthy as she had been since they'd first brought her in. 

Thanking the nurse, Mark was about to pick Bethany up and put her back to bed, when the door burst open and Amanda dashed in, breathless and panic-stricken.

"Mark, thank God," she gasped. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Amanda, calm down. What on Earth's the matter?"

"It's like everybody just went crazy." Amanda was gradually getting her breath back. "It all happened at once. Fights, break-ins. I don't know how you didn't hear it."

Mark looked down at Bethany. His worry for her had kept him completely absorbed.

"The police are on their way," the pathologist continued. "But then it all died down just as quickly as it had started. I was at the front desk and everybody just suddenly left. It was a distraction, Mark. Right down to keeping you here, busy with Bethany."

"Oh no," Mark breathed, as he realised what she was leading up to.

"I called the nurse's station upstairs, but got no answer, so I went up there. He's gone, Mark. Jesse's gone."

*****

Jesse's return to consciousness was agonisingly slow. At first, all he was aware of was a bitter cold, seeming to spread right through him. He knew that he was shivering and wanted to wrap his arms around himself, but he couldn't move. His arms were tied behind his back and his ankles bound together.

He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to co-operate and that strange heaviness still pervaded his limbs. He was aware that he was sitting upright, his back against a wall, but he had no other clue as to his surroundings. He certainly couldn't remember how he'd got to be where he was.

Somebody brushed against him and he flinched, but had nowhere to escape to. One of his eyelids was lifted and he caught a brief glimpse of a vaguely familiar face staring back at him, before it was dropped back down again. Then he heard the voice that he had grown to hate and fear.

"I think that's far enough," Morton said. "I don't want to have to worry about you getting too lively now."

Before he knew what was happening, Jesse felt his head being tilted back. Rough fingers forced his mouth open, then reached to the back of his throat. Jesse retched against the invasion but, just as quickly, those fingers were withdrawn and he swallowed reflexively. He felt the shape of the pills as they slid down his throat and a groan escaped him.

In spite of the fact that he was still shivering, Jesse could feel the sweat running down his face. How much had Morton given him, without him even being aware? More importantly, what exactly was it that had just been forced down his throat?

Suddenly, his stomach cramped violently and he fell onto his side. He wanted to vomit, to try and dispel at least some of the poison Morton had introduced into his body. But the world was beginning to fade again and, as another agonising spasm wracked through him, he didn't try to fight it.

*****

Amanda had just finished explaining to Mark everything that had happened when he was called to the phone. Uniformed police were already swarming the hospital and Steve was on his way. Mark had mentioned that Jesse was missing, but had so far said nothing about Philip Morton. To have cops suddenly storm the apartment building could very well endanger his young friend, assuming that was where Morton had taken him.

It was Mark's intention to let Steve handle that side of things, but as soon as he answered his phone call, he knew that he couldn't afford to wait for his son.

"Mark Sloan." He spoke brusquely, his mind filled with a thousand worries.

"Hello, Doctor Sloan." Mark instantly recognised Morton's voice and his hand clenched around the receiver.

"Where's Jesse? If you've hurt him..."

"You started this," Morton interrupted sharply. "All I asked for was a little forgiveness, a second chance. Surely everyone deserves that."

"After what you've done? You think that these terrorist tactics are going to get me to change my mind?" Mark was almost lost for words.

"Last chance, doc. Jesse really isn't looking too well."

"Let him go," Mark seethed. "If you just let him go now, we'll forget about this. I'll make sure he doesn't press charges."

"And the Medical Council?"

"You're too late. You always were and you'd have known that if you'd ever taken the time to talk to me. I made my report right after I fired you."

The silence that followed was so long that Mark started to wonder if the other man had hung up. Then there was a long sigh.

"I thought that might be the case," Morton said eventually.

"Then let Jesse go. You can still walk away from this. You don't have to go to prison. Please."

"I'm sorry, Mark. This will destroy me, do you know that?" There was another long pause and when Morton spoke again, his voice was filled with menace. "So I will destroy you. When Jesse dies, you will be responsible."

"No, please..."

"If you want to save his life, come to my apartment. Now and alone. Don't bring your son, don't bring the cops. Just you. I believe you know where I live."

"Alright," Mark agreed, knowing that he had no choice. Jesse's predicament really was his fault.

"Oh and Mark? I'd hurry if I were you. I think Jesse might have just stopped breathing.

*****

Morton looked back over to where Jesse lay. That last part, about him having stopped breathing, had been a lie. But he wanted Mark to panic, to not have time to think or, more importantly, plan ahead.

Now, Morton had only one more thing to do. Picking up a syringe off the table, he carefully filled it with liquid from a small vial, then crossed over to his young captive.

He prodded Jesse none too gently with his foot. Getting no response, he tried again, with a little more force. A frown creased Jesse's features and a groan escaped his lips.

Morton crouched next to him and hauled him back up until he was, once again, propped against the wall. He was facing the door and would be the first sight that greeted Mark when he entered.

"Come on, Jesse," Morton muttered, slapping the young doctor's face. "You don't want to miss your big moment."

Jesse's frown deepened and he tried to twist away from those slaps, but Morton's hands followed the movement. Eventually, his eyes cracked open. He stared blankly at Morton, before his eyes slowly wandered down to his captor's hand and the syringe that it held.

"No more," he whispered. "Please, no more."

"No, Jesse, this isn't for you." Morton placed the offending object out of Jesse's line of sight, but still within easy reach. "At least not if you co-operate."

"I won't help you to hurt Mark." Jesse tried to sound confident, even though he was clearly terrified by the prospect of being drugged again.

"You already have, Jesse. Even without knowing it, you already have."

*****

Mark drove as fast as he dared towards Morton's apartment, trying to concentrate on the road whilst explaining the situation to Steve over his cell phone.

"Dad, you mustn't go there alone," his son predictably argued.

"I have no choice, Steve. He's got Jesse and if I don't get there in time..."

"It's too dangerous. Listen, I'm not that far away. I can be there within half an hour."

"We don't have half an hour." Mark was almost at his destination. "Just meet me there. I have to do this, son. I won't let him hurt Jesse any more."

"Dad..."

"And Steve? Bring an ambulance with you." He pulled over outside the apartment and saw two youths lounging in the doorway. "And come quietly. We don't want to alarm him into doing something stupid."

"Dad!"

Mark put the phone down before Steve could argue any further and got out of the car. The youths straightened up as he approached them, blocking his way.

"Who are you?" The taller of the two demanded insolently.

"My name's Mark Sloan and I..."

"Okay, you can go in."

The two of them stepped aside to allow him entry, then moved back into position in the doorway.

Mark hurried up the stairs, his heart racing and his mouth dry. He'd got there as quickly as he could, but if Jesse had stopped breathing at the time of the phone call... Mark refused to let that thought reach a conclusion. He couldn't be too late, he just couldn't.

When he reached Morton's apartment, Mark tried the door, half-expecting it to be locked, but it swung open easily. He stepped in, then gasped in horror when he saw Jesse.

His young friend was tied up in a corner, dressed only in pyjama pants and a bathrobe. His face and chest were covered in sweat and Mark could see that a faint tremor was running through his entire body.

The shocking sight froze him for only the briefest moment, then he moved swiftly across the room. Jesse's eyes were half open, but he didn't once lift his gaze.

Then, as Mark neared an open doorway, intent only on reaching his friend, Philip Morton stepped out of it.

"Close enough, doc." Morton backed up until he was right next to Jesse, then crouched beside him.

Mark could clearly see the syringe in his hand. He took a hesitant step forward, but Morton pushed the tip of the needle against a vein in Jesse's neck. The stricken young doctor flinched and closed his eyes.

"What do you reckon, doc?" Morton was smiling nastily. "Is this gonna be the one that finally finishes him off? Do you wanna take that chance?"

"Let me help him, please." Mark held out a supplicating hand. "This has gone far enough."

"Not yet it hasn't. Almost, but not yet."

"What do you want from me?"

Morton straightened up, but was still too close to Jesse for Mark to risk trying anything. 

"What do you think is in this doc? Go on, take a guess." He held the syringe up to the light, studying it thoughtfully. "Not that I'd tell you if you guessed right of course. That would spoil the fun."

"Just tell me what you want." Mark's gaze flicked back to Jesse's still form.

"I want you to make a choice," Morton answered. "Oh don't worry, it's an easy choice. One you won't really have to think about for more than, say, a second or two."

"What choice?" He spoke quietly, wondering how long they had been talking and how much longer it would take Steve to get there. 

"Me or him, Mark." He gestured down towards Jesse. " Take your pick. Your friend or your enemy. See? I told you it was easy." 

"What are you talking about?"

"Ethics, morals, doing the right thing. All of the reasons that you chose to ruin my career. Well, Doctor Sloan, now it's your turn. You are so high and mighty, talking about the Hippocratic Oath and the need to be true to it at all times. Well, I'm going to show you that it's not that easy."

Mark watched him silently, not understanding just what Morton expected of him. He needed to get to Jesse, but didn't dare move. He could only listen to the other man's rambling.

Then Morton surprised him again, straightening his arm and holding the syringe poised over the inside of his own elbow. His thumb settled on the plunger.

"If I inject myself with this, I will be dead within three minutes." Morton said, intensely. "You have the ability to save my life."

"You're insane."

"No, not insane. Just proving a point." The tip of the needle pierced his skin. "You won't help me. You'll go straight to your friend. Okay, so he's sick, but is he in imminent danger of dying? Would he last those few minutes that it would take you to save me?"

"If you choose to commit suicide..."

"Oh no, you don't get out of it that easily. I'm not committing suicide. I'm trusting you to save me. You are a doctor, after all. And isn't that your primary function? Saving lives?"

"Don't." Mark took another half-step forward, as Morton's thumb began to depress the plunger.

He looked at Jesse, worried by his pallor. Even as he watched, his young friend grimaced and gasped with pain. His eyes cracked open and he looked at Mark, as though unable to comprehend why he was not helping him.

"Mark..." he gasped and there was a plea in just that one word. 

"Go to him," Morton spat, suddenly depressing the plunger all of the way in. "Help your friend. You hate me. Let me die."

"What was in the syringe?" Mark demanded, as Morton staggered against a wall.

"And when you find out that Jesse was going to be fine all along..." Morton ignored him. He was starting to get breathless. "That I'd died for nothing... when you could have... saved me... Then you'll realise... you betrayed your own... precious... oath."

Morton's knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. Mark rushed over and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were still open, though his face was twisted in pain.

"I hope... it drives you... insane," he muttered.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: See Part One

VICTIMS

__

(PART NINE)

Steve broke just about every traffic violation imaginable, as he rushed towards Philip Morton's apartment. Even with the bubble light flashing on top of his car, his driving was nothing short of reckless.

He'd called ahead, asking for an ambulance to meet him a block away from his destination, not wanting them to race there with sirens blazing. Morton was unstable, bordering on the insane and now it was not only Jesse who was in danger, but his father too.

As he slewed the steering wheel again, to dodge past the impossibly slow drivers in his way, Steve grimly wondered if, maybe, he would end up needing the ambulance for himself. But not once did he even contemplate slowing down at all. Half an hour could feel like a lifetime, when people you loved were depending on you.

When he reached his rendezvous point, he was disgusted to find that there was no ambulance crew waiting for him. He removed the bubble light from his own car and was just about to call in and demand to know where the Hell it was, when it rounded the corner behind him.

Steve wasted no time in briefing them and was just about to start leading the way to Morton's apartment, when two police cruisers pulled in behind them. He hadn't asked for back-up, but Steve was immensely relieved to see them. After curtly ordering them not to use lights or sirens, the little convoy got underway.

He arrived just twenty-two minutes after talking to his father on the phone. As he got out of his car, Steve frowned as he saw two delinquents blocking the doorway of the building. This wasn't really all that bad an area and the kids were distinctly out of place.

Then two uniformed policemen got out of each cruiser. The two youths looked at one another, had a rapid conversation and then began to run. Steve was happy to let them go. He'd got a good look at both of them and could easily identify them again, if the need arose. 

"Morton's apartment is on the first floor," Steve said, addressing the nearest of the two officers. "You two cover the fire escape, but don't move in unless I say so."

They nodded and moved off to carry out their orders.

"The rest of you are with me," he continued. He looked at the paramedics. "My dad seems to think that we'll need you pretty urgently, but wait in the corridor, until you get the all-clear."

Not willing to waste any more time, Steve strode into the apartment block, trusting them to follow him.

*****

Mark knelt between the two fallen men, a million thoughts racing through his head.

Who should he go to, Morton or Jesse? His enemy or his friend? His instincts screamed that it had to be Jesse, but Morton's words had clouded his mind.

Yes, he had often spoken of morals and ethics and had even cited the Hippocratic Oath. But what was he to do, with only one pair of hands, when two people so desperately needed his help? 

He tried to look on it as a triage situation, to help the one in the most need. But Morton had been right about that, too. There was love and hate involved. How could any decision he made be impartial?

These thoughts passed through Mark's head in a matter of fleeting seconds and, even as his mind hovered in indecision, his hands were busy. 

He tore open Morton's shirt collar, to try and ease his breathing, as his fingers quested for a pulse. He found it, beating unnaturally quickly beneath his touch.

Then a sudden thought struck him. There were two doctors in the room. Jesse had been drugged, but he had also been at least semi-aware. Maybe he didn't have to make this decision alone, after all.

"Do you know what was in the syringe?" 

When there was no answer, he twisted around to look at his young colleague. What he saw stopped all of the conflict he'd previously suffered. 

Jesse's eyes were, once again, closed and his head lolled against the wall. A thin trickle of green bile had wormed out of the corner of his mouth. To his consternation, Mark could no longer tell if he was breathing or not.

In his mind, Morton had ceased to exist. This was Jesse Travis, more like a son than a friend, and he had neglected him for long enough. He scooted over to where Jesse lay, the place he now knew he should have gone to first. 

As his frantic fingers searched desperately for a pulse, he heard the door burst open behind him. He turned and saw Steve, gun in hand, frozen in the doorway by the tableau that had greeted him. 

Jesse's flesh was cold beneath his touch.

"Help me, son," he pleaded.

*****

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Doctor Sloan?"

Amanda turned at the sound of a woman's voice and turned to find herself looking at Wendy Ho. Mark had introduced her the day before and, despite her worry, Amanda somehow found a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, keeping her tone light, "but he's not here right now. Are you here to see Bethany?"

"Well, yes, but I really wanted to talk to Doctor Sloan," Wendy answered.

"Maybe I can help you. If you're worried about Bethany, I..."

"No, no. It's Kim I'm worried about. My grandson."

Amanda paused before answering. Of course, she knew all about Kim Ho but, with everything that had been going on, she'd never taken the time to analyse her own feelings about him. 

He had shot one of her best friends and, as a result of that shooting, Jesse had been plunged into his own private Hell. But she was also a mother and knew what lengths a parent would go to, to protect their child. Philip Morton wasn't Kim Ho's fault and she wondered what Jesse would have done if none of those repercussions had followed.

_Jesse!_ Amanda remembered Mark's phone call and the haste with which he'd left the hospital. Sudden dread churned her stomach.

"Excuse me?" Wendy said, seeing that she'd lost the other woman's attention.

At that precise moment, Amanda wanted nothing more than to scream at the Chinese woman, to tell her exactly what her precious grandson had started, but she saw the look on Wendy's face and compassion won out.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "You were saying about Kim?"

"Doctor Sloan explained everything to me," Mary continued, unperturbed by the younger woman's momentary distraction. Mark had explained a great many other things to her as well. "I know that Kim did wrong and is in a lot of trouble and I can't excuse him for that."

"It's in the past now and nobody can change that." Amanda only spoke because an answer seemed expected of her.

"No, but we can do something about the future." Amanda had to forgive Wendy's persistence, she knew nothing of Jesse's plight. "His father hates him and will have nothing to do with him. But what about me?"

Amanda looked at her, not sure what she was getting at.

"What if I give them all a home? Kim, Maria and the baby?" Wendy continued with growing enthusiasm. "I don't want my grandson to go to prison. I'll look after them and I'll take full responsibility for them."

Amanda admired the woman's spirit, but couldn't help feeling the slightest twinge of bitterness. Kim Ho might still be responsible for setting in motion the chain of events that killed Jesse Travis.

*****

Steve had imagined a thousand different scenarios as he'd raced towards Morton's apartment, but none of them matched the scene that had greeted him when he burst into the room.

He never thought he'd see a look like that on his father's face. Mark looked desperate, almost helpless. And when he'd spoke, his tone of voice had turned Steve's blood to ice.

"Help me, son."

"Get the paramedics in here! Now!" He barely spared a glance towards Morton as he raced to his father's side.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get those Damned ropes off him." 

Mark carefully laid Jesse onto his side and slipped two fingers into his mouth, easing it more fully open. More of the disgusting bile spilled out. 

Steve had pulled out his pocket-knife and was savagely sawing through the ropes that bound his friend, when the paramedics rushed into the room. Mark barely spared them a glance. 

"He injected himself with something," he said curtly, jerking his head in Morton's direction. "I don't know what."

Then Jesse convulsed violently and he left them to get on with their job, no longer caring whether they succeeded or not.

"Dad?" Steve had completed severing the bonds and was looking to his dad for direction, when Jesse convulsed again. His arms thrashed weakly at the hands that were trying to help him.

"Just keep him still, son." Mark had to force those words out. Jesse had been restrained for too long. "I have to clear his air-way."

Hating himself for what he was doing, Steve pulled his friend's arms down and held them in a firm, but gentle grip. Mark pushed his fingers further into Jesse's mouth and they had to endure another sudden convulsion.

"Doctor Sloan?"

It was the voice of one of the paramedics and Mark completely ignored him. He didn't even care if he were about to tell him that Morton was dead. His fingers quested further and Jesse wretched, then gasped in a sudden breath of air.

Temporarily satisfied, Mark spared a brief glance towards Morton. The two paramedics who'd tended to him were looking back at him quizzically. 

"He's going to be fine," one of them said. "As far as we can tell, he gave himself a shot of some kind of stimulant. My guess would be adrenalin. Nothing serious, but enough to cause him a lot of discomfort."

"Dad!"

Steve hadn't once taken his eyes off Jesse and so it was he who noticed that, after his friend had exhaled that gasped lungful of air, he didn't fight for another one.

Mark reacted without thought. Jesse had stopped breathing, so he did the only thing that he could. Rolling the young doctor onto his back, he began to perform CPR.

"Doctor Sloan." One of the paramedics stepped forward, confused by what he was seeing. "Why don't you let us?"

But Mark was beyond hearing them. He had caused this situation, so it was up to him to resolve it. Steve had to step in and physically pull Mark away from Jesse before the paramedics were able to get close to him.

"Dad, they've got him." Steve was almost shouting to get his father's attention. "Let them help him."

Mark looked at him and his eyes were filled with tears.

"I should have known he was lying," he whispered. "He's done nothing but lie, right from the start. God Dammit! I should have known."

"Known what?" Steve was starting to get worried and not just about Jesse. "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"He always meant to kill Jesse. Why couldn't I see that? But he made me choose, between my ethics and..."

"Dad, I don't understand."

"He made me leave Jesse to die." A tear trickled down Mark's cheek. "That was his revenge. I would have let him die and that wouldhave driven me insane."

Concerned as he was by his father's behaviour, Steve threw a worried glance towards the corner where the two paramedics worked feverishly over his best friend.

One of them glanced back over his shoulder.

"We've got him stabilised, but I don't know for how long. Do you know what he took?"

"He didn't _take _anything!" Steve reacted with typical fury. "He..."

"Steve, we know it's not Jesse's fault." The altercation seemed to snap Mark out of his stupor and he stepped forward with calm authority. "Let's just get him to hospital."

"What about him?" One of the paramedics asked, glancing towards Morton's still unconscious form. "He really should go to the hospital, too."

"Just take care of Jesse," Steve snapped, fixing Morton with a venomous glare. "I'll take care of him."

*****

It was one of the longest nights of Mark's life, as he kept a constant vigil at Jesse's bedside. In spite of his son's and his friends' objections, he refused to go home. It was his fault that Jesse was lying there, fighting for his life. Staying with him was the least he could do.

The young doctor's tox-screen had come back reading like a stock-sheet from a pharmacy. His stomach had been pumped and he was hooked up to a multitude of tubes, as they tried to flush the deadly cocktail out of his system. 

Steve stayed with him for as long as he could, but he had work to do, namely making sure that Philip Morton got exactly the punishment that he deserved.

Morton was kept in the hospital overnight, mainly for observation, but he had two armed guards on his door and Steve was there when the time came for him to be formally arrested.

Jesse's tormentor dressed, then sat on the edge of his bed, listening impassively as Steve read him his rights.

"What are you charging me with, Lieutenant?" he asked and Steve was surprised to see him smiling hopefully at him. "Murder?"

"Kidnapping, assault, _attempted_ murder." Steve enjoyed watching the smile fade from the other man's lips. "He's alive, Morton. My dad saved his life."

Steve handed his prisoner over to the two uniformed cops, then hurried back to where his friend lay, praying that he had just told Morton the truth.

*****

Jesse had thought that regaining consciousness in Morton's apartment had been painful, but that was nothing compared to the agony that awaited him when he finally started to come around, some forty-eight hours after being rushed through the doors of Community General.

To begin with, he was only vaguely aware that something wasn't right. There was something in his throat and, remembering how Morton had forced drugs into him, he began to panic. Then the pain hit him all at once and he gasped, almost choking on the tube that had been helping him to breath. His eyes shot open suddenly, as full consciousness was rudely thrust upon him. 

Mark had given in to the constant pressure of his colleagues and snatched a few hours sleep in the on-call room. He had returned just in time and almost fell off his chair in surprise when, without any prior warning, his patient woke up. He saw the panic that immediately followed and was on his feet in an instant, leaning over the bed so that Jesse could see him. 

"It's okay, Jess," he soothed. "You're safe now. He's gone and you're at the hospital. You're safe now."

Jesse looked up at him with pleading eyes. He wanted to tell Mark just how much he was hurting, but the tube prevented him from speaking. Tears of pain and frustration welled in his eyes.

"I know you're hurting, Jess." Mark saw the tears and correctly interpreted at least part of their reason. "But I'm sorry, I can't give you anything for it. He put so many different drugs into your system, we have no idea what might trigger another reaction. I truly am sorry..." 

He trailed off and just looked on helplessly as two tears trickled down his young friend's cheeks. He would have done anything to be able to take his pain away, but the risks were just too great. He reached out and laid a soothing hand on Jesse's cheek.

"I am so sorry," he whispered.

Jesse stared back at him, not fully understanding what he was being told. His head was still fuzzy and the pain was making it difficult for him to concentrate. All that he wanted was to stop hurting. More tears rushed to replace those that had already fallen. 

Mark could do nothing more than continue stroking his cheek, making soothing noises and watching his friend cry. He didn't know how long he'd stood there, but eventually Jesse's eyelids dropped and he slipped into what Mark hoped was a peaceful, therapeutic sleep.

*****

Healing was a slow and pain-filled process. After Jesse's first return to consciousness, Mark had removed the throat tube, but it was still too soon for him to consider increasing his medication. Throughout the next two days he, Steve and Amanda could only be there for their friend as his nightmare continued.

There were a great many more tears, not all of them from Jesse's eyes and there was one horrific moment when Jesse completely lost all control and had begged Mark to give him something, anything to help him. Mark had cried along with his friend and just held him until the pain subsided to a more bearable level.

On the morning of the third day since Jesse had first awoken, Mark had run a battery of tests and was anxiously awaiting the results, when Amanda came into the room. 

"Any change?" She asked quietly. Jesse was still sleeping.

Mark was just about to answer, when a nurse opened the door and handed him a file. Taking his glasses from his top pocket, he studied it in silence for, what felt to Amanda, the longest time.

"Well?" She pressed, unable to contain her curiosity.

"The foreign substances in Jesse's bloodstream have fallen almost by half," he explained. Then his face broke into a broad grin. "He's out of the woods, Amanda. He's going to be alright!"

Unable to help herself, Amanda threw her arms around the older doctor's neck and hugged him hard. She was laughing and crying at the same time.

"Hey, guys," a weak voice called out from the bed. "I'm starting to feel a little left out here."

The two of them turned towards him, still grinning like idiots.

"I'm guessing from your expressions that it's good news." Jesse shifted uncomfortably on the bed, a grimace flashing over his features. "So why don't I feel any better?"

"Where does it hurt, Jess?" Mark asked, as he began to prepare a syringe.

"Um, everywhere?" He gasped again, then said through gritted teeth: "Stomach, mostly."

"Let me give you something for that."

After what he had been through, Mark wouldn't have been surprised if Jesse had flinched away from the needle. But the young doctor just closed his eyes, then sighed with unmistakable relief as the painkiller was administered. 

*****

Another two days and Jesse was getting back towards being his normal self. Mark had told him what Morton had done, as he found that he had very little memory of events inside the actual apartment. Then, he had gently explained about Wendy Ho and her offer to take care of Kim, Maria and Bethany. 

Mark had been unsure as to what Jesse's reaction would be, but the compassionate young man had simply smiled and said he was happy that Bethany would have a proper home to grow up in. The baby's prognosis was reasonably good and she was responding well to the treatment.

Mark's only concern about his friend was that, throughout their conversation, Jesse never once asked after Kim Ho himself. He didn't press the issue, knowing that Jesse would have to face up to it sooner rather than later.

That afternoon, there was a light knock at the door and Steve poked his head round, his face lighting up when he saw how well Jesse was looking. As he entered the room, his smile faded somewhat. His wasn't a social visit.

"Jesse, Kim Ho was in court this morning," Steve began. "He pleaded guilty to all of the charges, but the DA did intervene. Once she found out about his grandmother's offer to..."

"Just tell me what he got, Steve." Jesse's voice was flat, his gaze impassive.

"A probationary order."

The doctor merely nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Steve looked at him worriedly, remembering how he had previously reacted at the mere mention of Kim Ho's name and afraid that the news might have caused a set-back in his recovery.

"Jess..."

"I'm okay." Jess looked at him and his eyes were bright with tears. "Maybe you're right, maybe being locked up would have destroyed him and maybe now he'll sort his life out. But it's not that easy, you know?"

"He wants to come and see you. To apologise to you in person."

Steve was only trying to make his friend see that Kim wasn't such a bad kid after all. But he was forced to regret the words as soon as he'd said them. Jesse sat frozen on the bed, a look of shock on his face. He was so completely and utterly still that, for a moment, Steve genuinely feared that he'd suffered a relapse. Then he blinked and the tension in his features relaxed, leaving behind only sadness.

"I'm sorry." His tearful gaze dropped down to the bedclothes. "I just don't think I'm ready for that yet."

THE END.

Author's notes: Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it. Believe me, it was a lot of fun to write. The reviews throughout were greatly appreciated and a genuine inspiration. My muse is already whispering ideas for my next story, so hopefully I'll be posting something again soon. Thanks again, everyone. Guardian.


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